


Of Sansa and Sandor

by Bacner



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU - Freeform, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Sansa and Arya sisterly bonding, Sansa isn't a doormat anymore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 07:50:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11009103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bacner/pseuds/Bacner
Summary: Sansa wants to get married. And the Hound?





	Of Sansa and Sandor

And so it came to pass that Sansa Stark, a lady of the North and the eldest daughter of the Stark family, (who were the Wardens of the North, BTW), came over to Ser Sandor Clegane, AKA ‘the Hound’, while the latter was overseeing the training between lady Sansa’s sister, Arya, and her friend Gendry, and said, brightly:

“So! I’ve been thinking!”

“Yes, the little bird and the big oaf have warned me. Children, the training is cancelled for now, let’s go, bye!” Ser Sandor said brightly, and the three of them prepared to flee, while leaving lady Sansa all by herself.

“You come back here!” Sansa bellowed all over the courtyard.

An aside should be made here: while lady Sansa still did her best to adhere to their mother’s – lady Catelyn Stark’s – standards of being a noble lady, (unlike Arya), she was beginning to fully admit that a noble lady, (regardless of South, North, West or East), should have a sugar-sweet temper – but also a patience of steel and a matching set of lungs in case her friends, subjects, siblings, etc. proved to be especially trying or obtuse – as they were now.

Anyhow, Sansa’s outcry did provide the desired effect, as the other three stopped. Arya and Gendry, who had not experienced Sansa’s new vocal power, remained simply dumbfounded, if not outright stunned, (though mostly from surprise). Sandor, who was more experienced than the others, was more bemused by Sansa’s outburst than anything else.

“I think, Ser Sandor, that we should get married,” Sansa continued in her initial, warm and sunny manner as if she had not just caused the birds to fly away in a 15-mile radius. 

“Aha,” Ser Sandor gave Sansa one of his typical looks. “And what brought that on? I thought that you were going to marry a prince?”

“I did, and then he died, and my family – and the Tyrells, and the others – married and remarried me several times before you three rescued me, remember?” Sansa gave a look right back. “Arya, I don’t want any comments from you, but the gilt is clearly off the lily, here.”

Arya snort. “Oh sister, I see that you haven’t changed at all—“

“Do you want me to scream right in your face?” Sansa said sweetly, giving Arya a tender little smile that was just too similar to the smile of Cersei ‘Queen Crazy’ Lannister for comfort. “Because by the Seven, I will!”

“Um,” Arya looked at Ser Sandor and Gendry. The latter looked as if he would rather be anywhere else but here, in case the Stark sisters had their confrontation; the former just gave the littlest Stark a very pointed glance. “I cannot win this one, can I?”

“No,” Ser Sandor said simply. “And where were we, Lady Stark?” he switched his attention back to Sansa. 

“I think that we should get married,” the latter patiently repeated her last statement.

“Yes, but then I asked as to what brought this idea on,” Ser Sandor’s voice just as patient.

“Meh, I’m fairly sure that I’m the oldest of Starks left,” Sansa spoke flippantly – too flippantly to fool anybody. “I mean, Jon is either a bastard, a Targaryen, or a Targaryen bastard – he cannot inherit our lands and title, and besides, he did take the black. Bran is, well, Bran, and no one is still sure as to where Rickon is. This leaves Arya and me, and we are, well, women. We need someone in our lives and I’m the oldest,” she shot Gendry a typical ‘big sister’ look that left the young man decidedly nervous, “of the two, so there is that.”

“How lovely,” Ser Sandor’s voice was especially dry. “Lady Sansa, you really know how to sweet-talk-“

“Well, one of us must!” Sansa snorted – lady-like, of course, and not like some especially irritated horse. “I mean, Ser Sandor, where are you going after this is all over, and you probably have killed your brother? Hm?”

“I don’t know,” Sandor admitted, “and overall I’m not even sure that I want to kill him anymore – I think that he is already dead, sort of...”

“Exactly!” Sansa said smugly – i.e. brightly: she did not win too many arguments with Ser Sandor, actually. “So let’s get married and start dealing with the North while everyone else is dealing with…whatever they are dealing with, right now. Yes?”

“There’s still your mother,” Ser Sandor commented, as the two of them, (followed by Arya and Gendry at a safe distance), began to walk from the courtyard to the nearest sept. (Because Sansa had won the argument, after all). 

“My mother is currently trying to persuade Ser Jaime to kill all the other Lannisters,” Sansa shrugged. “Considering that ever since he is with lady Brienne of Tarth, the Evenstar, good luck with that. In addition, the youngest Lannister children would rather be with them to begin with! Good for them.”

Ser Sandor, who actually agreed with lady Sansa on that matter, did not argue with her.

End.


End file.
